Business Class!

The whole "business class" thing wasn't quite as classy this time. Sure, it's still way better than "economy class." (I envision that the lower level of the aircraft was a hundred or so extended families crammed into one big room. They were probably singing and dancing, as undoubtedly many of them had guitars. And I'm sure there was livestock for the shirtless and shoeless children to play with. I don't think it actually happened that way, but that's what I'm picturing.)

First of all, it took at least an hour for the air conditioning to actually condition the air. So the start of the trip was basically a sauna. Also, throughout the trip, the in-flight entertainment systems were entirely useless. They even made an announcement at some point telling us that they just plain don't work. Awesome. Oh, and the seat adjustments in business class only sometimes worked. If the light was on, your seat had power and you could adjust it. Otherwise, you were stuck in that position. (The best part about that was when we were taking off and the flight attendant asked if I could adjust my seat. "No, actually, I can't. I would like to, but I'm afraid your plane won't let me.")

All of this wasn't that bad. What was bad was the woman sitting next to me. At least I think that miserable heap of flesh was a woman. For one thing, she was fidgety as all hell. Within the first two minutes of taking her seat she had fully consumed the in-flight reading (including the safety card), played with every possible button, adjusted how she was stowing her purse 4 times, removed items from her purse only to replace them again, and a whole myriad of other useless activities.

When they gave us hot towels, I wiped my face like usual. She... she took off her shoes and washed her feet with it. It didn't go anywhere near her face. She washed her feet. Right there in front of God and everyone. Damn it, people use these towels on their faces. That is disgusting.

Throughout the flight she would continue to fidget, cough a lot (without covering her mouth, of course), constantly adjust everything, and so on. It was by the grace of God alone that she didn't spill her food and beverages all over me.

Toward the end of the flight there was another hot towel. I... I didn't want to use it this time. I don't trust it anymore. She used it on her hands this time. I guess her feet were clean now because she'd been picking at them for the past 12 hours. But then... then she started putting on make-up. Again, she doesn't do these things in the privacy of the restroom or anything. And it wouldn't have been so bad if it was just a little touching up work. But no, she was slathering shit all over her face.

Apparently all her purse contained was make-up products. She used at least a dozen different products on her face in the span of about thirty minutes. And, as I said, she wasn't just dabbing. She was shoveling crap onto her face. How can a person even live like that? There was half a pound of gunk on her face. Does that not bother her?

Then, of course, as we were approaching San Francisco she had to lean over me to look out the window. Bringing me ever closer to the make-up. I was afraid it would touch me, leaving me unclean somehow.

This woman was a terrible, horrible human being. And with every fiber of rage I can muster, I hate her.

But now I'm in San Francisco, and it's nice. It's clean, it's relaxing. The bathrooms are nice so I was able to freshen up. There's a sushi restaurant in the terminal. There are plenty of power outlets. It's relatively quiet and peaceful.

As much as I love Asia's Mexico, it's so good to be back again.